“If you play in college like you have for our team so far this season, I don’t think you’ll stay for the full four years to get your degree. Whichever team drafts you will be impatient to get you on the ice,” he predicted.
Mrs. Carrington’s eyes narrowed. “Well, I for one hope you’ll be there long enough to get your bachelor’s degree. Even high-paid athletes need something to fall back on when their career is over.”
I didn’t want to disappoint someone who had looked out for me such a long time, so I nodded and kept quiet. If given the opportunity to play professional hockey before I’d earned my degree, I would jump at the chance without a doubt. I only had so many years to play hockey at that level, and I could always go back to school later on if needed. The paycheck I would earn in the league would more than make up for any scholarship dollars lost.
I was saved by something behind me that drew her attention away. Turning to see what was happening, I was surprised to see a sheet cake being rolled into the room with a few of my teammates trailing it. When they spotted me, the guys broke into an off-key performance of “Happy Birthday.” Emme pressed up against my side and whispered, “It’s your birthday?”
“Yeah.” I flashed her an apologetic grin when she glared at me. “Sorry, I didn’t think to tell you. It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything for my birthday, and I was so focused on what was going down today that it didn’t seem like a big deal.”
She wagged her finger at me. “From now on, we celebrate everything.”
With her at my side and my college scholarship clinched, I was all for that plan. For the first time since my mom died, I actually looked forward to the holidays.
13
Emmeline
Taking a deep breath, I stepped into my mother’s office and asked, “What time should I tell Corby to be here tomorrow?”
She glanced up from whatever she’d been looking at on her computer, and the confusion in her eyes was obvious. I was certain her brow would have wrinkled if she didn’t get regular Botox injections there. “Pardon?”
When I had told her I was inviting someone to her Thanksgiving get-together, she hadn’t asked for a name. I didn’t volunteer one since I didn’t want to get into an argument, but there was no chance she didn’t know exactly who Corby was by now. Not after the local news station ran footage of me standing behind him when he signed his national letter of intent two weeks ago. I’d been waiting on pins and needles for her or my dad to bring it up, but neither of them had said a word so far. I had barely seen my dad, but I wasn’t sure why my mother hadn’t voiced her opinion on who I was dating yet. I wasn’t looking forward to having this conversation with her, but there was no avoiding the topic now. “My boyfriend is coming to Thanksgiving tomorrow, Mother. I need to let him know what time to come over. Will we be eating at five o’clock like we normally do?”
“Of course, the meal will be served then. Any earlier is crass.” She gave an exaggerated shudder while pursing her lips in distaste.
“Great, I’ll let Corby know.”
I turned to escape, but she wasn’t going to let me get away that easily. “Not so fast, Emmeline.”
I stopped and heaved a deep sigh. Straightening my spine, I swiveled on my heel and met her gaze. “Yes, Mother?”
“I assume you realize that your little boyfriend will feel ill at ease with our crowd.” She leveled me with a pointed stare, as though she was waiting for me to take the verbal bait she had just tossed my way. I remained silent, seething inside over her judgment of a boy she’d never even met. Corby didn’t have the kind of money her so-called friends had, but he was smart, kind, loyal, and talented. I’d take him over them any day of the week. But what I valued in people was the opposite as my mother, so she would never understand my point of view. “Since you refuse to see reason on your own, you’re forcing me to be blunt. There will not be a seat for Corby King at my table tomorrow.”
The way she said his full name let me know she hadn’t said anything about me having a boyfriend until now because she’d been waiting for this moment. “If that’s how you feel, then I won’t be here either. Good luck explaining my absence to your guests. I’m sure Corby and I will be the focus of most of the gossip at the holiday parties this season as people speculate why I wasn’t here.”
My threat didn’t sway her. “Oh, for goodness’ sakes, stop acting like a child. You’re too old to throw a tantrum over an inappropriate fling. You’ll be eighteen soon. It’s past time for you to think about your future. When you get to college, you will meet plenty of eligible young men.”
I was a great student and would probably have my pick of schools, but my mother wasn’t worried about me getting my bachelor’s degree. She looked at college as my opportunity to gain an MRS degree by finding a husband with a bank account as large as my dad’s. Her priorities were messed up, but that wasn’t anything new. Marrying someone like my dad had been her sole aim when she’d been my age, after all.
I was not a younger version of my mother, though. Marrying into money wasn’t something I would ever worry about for many reasons. One of which was something she apparently needed a reminder about. “Your control over my life is nearing its end, Mother. As you pointed out, I’ll be eighteen soon. And when I am, I will receive distributions from the trust fund set up for me by my grandparents. If you push me too far away, you might not like the consequences,” I warned before turning away again.
“Your empty threats don’t frighten me, Emmeline. You’re much too sheltered to venture out on your own before college,” she scoffed before turning her attention back to her computer, effectively dismissing me.
“Think what you’d like, Mother. You always do.” I paused at the doorway for a final, parting shot. “I loved my grandparents dearly, but I never liked how they treated you. After spending years having them look down their nose at you, I’ll never be able to understand how you can act even worse toward Corby.”
After shutting the door behind me, I jumped at the loud crash of something being thrown against the hard surface. My knees were weak as I walked away, but I was proud of finally standing up for myself. I wasn’t about to let Corby spend the holiday alone just because my mother was a snob.
“I think this should be a new tradition.” I twisted my neck to look up at Corby. We cuddled in his bed, watching holiday movies as we polished off a whole pumpkin pie.
When I’d told Marta about my confrontation with my mother, she called the caterer and added an extra meal for me to bring over to the Whitney’s. They were in the Bahamas for the holiday week, so it was just the two of us. The roasted turkey breast, mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry relish, and yeast rolls had been more than the two of us could eat. It tasted better than the fancy dishes my mother had picked—like the kale and quinoa salad and cauliflower gratin she’d gotten because they were gluten-free—and all we’d had to do was heat everything in the oven. “Which part?”
“All of it.” He grinned and stretched his arm out to set the almost empty pie dish on his bedside table. Then his arms went around me, his fingers stroking up and down my side.